


The Light of Your Life Could Sunburn My Eyes (Day One- Patching Up Wounds)

by swampslip



Series: RDR Sapphic Week 2020 [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Chapter 1: Colter (Red Dead Redemption 2), Early in Canon, F/F, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, Medical Procedures, i love when Women, rdr sapphic week 2020, you know that meme about wlw and wlnbs falling hard and fast yeah so like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27104551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip
Summary: “Just a bandage, I think,” Sadie says as she guides Tilly’s fingers into splaying apart, feeding the cloth through the gaps and wrapping up the injury.Sadie focuses on tucking the ends in so they don’t unravel so easily, having a hunch that this’ll hardly slow Tilly down.When she looks up Tilly’s watching their hands, lips parted and breathing just a bit faster.“… Too tight?”“No-” Tilly’s tongue peeks out to swipe over her bottom lip and the younger woman slowly lifts her chin, meeting Sadie’s gaze with a deep warmth in her eyes, “Not at all.”
Relationships: Sadie Adler/Tilly Jackson
Series: RDR Sapphic Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978327
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29
Collections: RDR Sapphic Week 2020





	The Light of Your Life Could Sunburn My Eyes (Day One- Patching Up Wounds)

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from a poem of mine that.. isn't published yet oops

It’s a whirlwind of weapons and leather and horses and since when is this vest so goddamn tight?

Sadie grimaces at the pain in her side as she tries to shrug the vest down her shoulders. 

The inside of the leather is shiny with blood and Sadie worries her bottom lip, dropping the vest over a stool in the women’s tent. 

She was able to slip past the initial fuss over Arthur and Charles and their more grievous injuries without much notice, holding herself tightly and waving off concern. 

The tent flap lifts and Sadie turns to see Tilly coming in, carrying a medicine bag. 

“Mrs. Adler?” Tilly blinks when she sees Sadie, raising a brow at the blood-stained shirt, “Arthur sent me with this, told me you were… Well, he said ‘Maybe injured’, I’m sayin’ definitely.”

“I’m fine,” Sadie says reflexively then grimaces, grabbing below the spreading stain. 

“I can help, if you need it,” Tilly says slowly, frowning at the older woman, “Why are you tryin’ to hide it?”

“I… I’m not,” Sadie says hoarsely, “Just don’t need all that noise.”

She gestures behind Tilly, face pinching as she stumbles back, catching herself on the edge of a table, using it to stay upright. 

“Mrs. Adler-” Tilly starts, sounding a touch more urgent. 

“I would… Appreciate some help,” Sadie whispers and Tilly quickly strides closer, clearing the table and helping Sadie lay back on it.

“Were you plannin’ on just…” Tilly trails off as she carefully undoes Sadie’s suspenders and untucks the layers of soiled cotton, “Lettin’ it bleed?”

“No,” Sadie says through gritted teeth, inhaling shakily when Tilly’s cool hands frame the hot and irritated skin around the gash, “Was gonna wrap it up… With somethin’.”

Tilly makes a small sound of disbelief and grabs the wash bowl, Sadie struggling to help flush the wound. 

“It’s fine, Mrs. Adler,” Tilly says quietly, “I got you.”

Sadie freezes, realizes she’s probably just making the job harder, her trembling, stiff hands in the way. 

She lays back, flat on the table and stares at the top of the tent. 

“What did this?” Tilly murmurs as she wipes the edges of the wounds to check them, “Don’t look like a bullet.”

“Shrapnel,” Sadie whispers, “Glass, I think.”

Tilly hums low in her throat and Sadie licks her dry lips as the younger woman starts to pull the fresh edges together. 

“You gotten stitches before?” Tilly asks softly.

“Yeah,” Sadie says roughly, gestures to her covered leg, “Been a while, but yeah, you don’t gotta baby me.”

Tilly laughs indelicately, a small sound in the relative quiet in the tent. 

“Mrs. Adler, I wouldn’t dare,” Tilly says and raises one hand innocently before stepping back and setting up a suture kit

Sadie shifts to tug her shirt further up, and her pants down her hips, hoping some part of either can be spared, glad her vest, at least, has a thick sealant on it and should rinse clean. 

Tilly comes back and perches herself on the table next to Sadie, bending over her lap to get a closer view. 

“This doesn’t bother you?” Sadie asks quietly, trying not to focus on the feeling of a hot needle piercing her flesh, “The… The mess of it all?”

“The gore?” Tilly hums and tilts her head. 

Sadie can tell it’s an unconscious action, a habit, and she wonders who Tilly picked it up from given she hasn’t seen anyone else do it around camp. 

These people are all still so new to her, but she feels no fear with Tilly’s hands sewing her guts back together. 

“I suppose, if I could choose, I’d live a quieter life. Not have to keep my hands in the blood and mud and…” Tilly presses her lips together as she ties off the first stitch, “But I can’t choose just yet _and_ I’ve seen worse than this.”

“Well,” Sadie says to fill the silence that follows that statement then inhales sharply at the twinge in her side when Tilly starts the next stitch, _“-Shit.”_

Tilly murmurs an absent-minded apology, focusing harder on getting a clean seam of skin. 

\--

“How’s your side?” Tilly asks, picking up her skirts as she steps up into the wagon, “You gon’ be alright ridin’ with us?”

“I’ll be fine,” Sadie says, gently presses her palm to her stomach over the nearly-healed wound, just pink and fresh now, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Tilly says lightly then comes to sit next to Sadie on the bench, pulling a blanket out of her basket and offering half of it to Sadie, who follows the slender fingers up to Tilly’s sweet expression. 

Her smiling eyes and knowing smile, the flurries of snow stuck on the curls escaping her braids. 

Sadie can see the brightness of the winter’s day outside, the shape of the little window in the wagon a splash of light in Tilly’s eyes. 

The older woman takes the blanket with a hoarse thank you, the second in as many minutes, and draws it over her lap as her stomach unsettles. 

Anxious interest, in a curious and long-forgotten shade of want and affection. 

\--

“Miss Jackson,” Sadie whispers as she ducks into the tent, “You alright?”

“I suppose you saw that lil’ slip-up, then,” Tilly says lightly and laughs in a self-deprecating tone, “You’d think with how long I’ve been handlin’ a knife…”

“Happens to the best,” Sadie swallows and reveals the medical kit she swiped before following the younger woman through camp, “… Of us.”

“Well, we’ll be even after this, I suppose,” Tilly smiles, but it’s tight with pain, one hand squeezing a rag around her other hand’s finger, red just starting to seep through. 

“I’m sure there are other things I owe you for,” Sadie mutters as she rustles through the supplies then grabs the canteen of freshly boiled water, “This is warm, still, but shouldn’t scald you.”

“How lucky.”

Sadie snorts softly and cradles Tilly’s hand in her own, carefully washing it clean. 

“S’not that deep,” Sadie murmurs, her thumb pressing next to the wound as blood beads up again. 

“The audacity of it to _smart_ like it does,” Tilly mutters, “Ain’t even a threat to my life.”

Sadie presses her lips together, brows furrowing as she bites back a smile at the petulant tone. 

It’s a funny thing, to see Tilly irritated, the younger woman so often more proper than Sadie could dream to be. 

“Just a bandage, I think,” Sadie says as she guides Tilly’s fingers into splaying apart, feeding the cloth through the gaps and wrapping up the injury. 

Sadie focuses on tucking the ends in so they don’t unravel so easily, having a hunch that this’ll hardly slow Tilly down. 

When she looks up Tilly’s watching their hands, lips parted and breathing just a bit faster. 

“… Too tight?”

“No-” Tilly’s tongue peeks out to swipe over her bottom lip and the younger woman slowly lifts her chin, meeting Sadie’s gaze with a deep warmth in her eyes, “Not at all.”

The chill in the room fades as Sadie’s cheeks heat and her fingers lightly tremble, tangled with Tilly’s.

Tilly studies her and leans up, their height evened out by the table she’s hopped up on, cups the side of Sadie’s face and presses a small kiss to the older woman’s lips. 

Sadie freezes up, going stiff and tight and scared shitless. 

Tilly starts to pull back and Sadie breaks, the guilt falling clean out of her, follows, leaning in, one hand sliding up to Tilly’s wrist, her finger’s slipping under the woolen cuffs, her other hand falling to squeeze the layers of fabric over Tilly’s thigh. 

Tilly makes a small sound of surprise then returns the energy in perfect paces, the heel of her boot hooking around the back of Sadie’s calf, her other hand coming up to hold the older woman’s scarf, keeping Sadie close.


End file.
